Let me set the scene for you. I got home and decided that as I wasn't going out anywhere or seeing anyone apart from my toddler, I didn't need to wear my bra anymore. So into the washing b asket it goes. I then decide to give the world's stickiest toddler a bath, so I undress him and take off my jeans so I can sit on the edge of the bath and wash him.
So we are almost finished the bath when the doorbell rings. Can't pretend I'm not home because the washing machine is on, as is the TV and the car is in the drive. So I decide to wait a bit, then get Charlie out of the bath. I look out the bathroom window through the blinds and into the cat garden and courtyard. Why I thought sitting on the side of the bath in a t-shirt and panties would allow me to see through walls and around corners to the front door I don't know.
Anyway, I devise a brilliant plan of holding a towel wrapped toddler in front of me, as I go to see if anyone has left anything at the front door. This, I reason, will prevent anyone still there from seeing that I'm not wearing any trousers. So I open the front door. Of course, the person is still standing there. He's probably 12 at the most. He looks at me and then at his feet and stammers something about a walk-a-thon. I reply - yep I'll be right back I just have to dry him off a bit and I'll be right with you. Cue to dump toddler in his room, still wet, and run into kitchen to find my trousers. Thank god I didn't put them in the wash. Out of guilt, because I'm suspecting that perhaps the toddler wasn't as strategically placed as I had hoped, I find $5 in my bag to give to walk-a-thon boy. Then I dash back to the front door, now attired in trousers at least (and hoping that he doesn't look too closely at my t-shirt) and fill out his little walk-a-thon card and pay my $5. Doing so I notice that all my neighbours have given him about $2. Obviously they answered the door in pants.